Then and Now
by JamiW
Summary: NOT part of the series. This is a look into Alex's mind during the episode Lady's Man.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: The timeline runs concurrent with Lady's Man. Some text is pulled directly from the show - no copyright infringement intended.**

**The entire story is Alex POV**

* * *

If I'd known that this was how my day was going to go, I would've just stayed in the bed.

_Bobby's bed_, I amended with an internal smile.

Our relationship was still so new that I couldn't have that thought without the accompanying jolt of pleasure that came along with it.

But unfortunately, I _had_ gotten up. I'd left the warmth of his embrace so that I could go for a run, pick up my dry cleaning, and get cleaned up for work.

_Separately_.

I thought that was important for some reason. That we each continue to prepare for our day in our respective homes.

I was so desperately afraid of tangling up work with our relationship that I'd actually laid out specific guidelines.

He'd chuckled at me, but he'd been a good sport.

"_No touching at work,"_ I'd said.

_"Not at all? What if I need to get your attention?"_ he'd asked obtusely as he tried to hold back a smile.

A happy Bobby was an unusual but welcome sight, so I held back my sharp reply.

"_You know what I mean,"_ I'd said instead. _"And no making personal plans while we're on the clock."_

"_Even in my head? Or just not out loud?"_

At this point, I'd sighed loudly and then ran my hand down his bare chest, pausing only briefly when my fingertips touched the waistband of his boxers.

"_Do you want to do this or not?" _I'd asked him as my hand slipped underneath the fabric. We'd been lying in his bed, our skin still slick with sweat from our most recent encounter.

At that point, he'd quickly rolled, pinning me beneath him. He began to speak, but he paused after each word to kiss me.

"_I…most…definitely…want…to…do… this."_

By that time, I'd been so fired up with need that I'd forgotten the point of the whole discussion.

Without a doubt, the man knew how to kiss, knew how to do everything, and it seemed as though he'd been storing up nine years worth of desire.

_For me_, he'd insisted. For nine years he'd been wanting_ me_.

And now for the past two weeks, he'd been having me. Often.

At first I'd been scared to death that we were ruining everything - the friendship, the partnership, all of it.

But so far so good.

He was talking more. And I was talking…some.

I knew that we would hit some snags and have issues that would have to be worked through, but with each passing day I was beginning to feel more confident that we could do this thing.

We could have everything.

But that was before my past came back to bite me in the ass.

Because after I'd gone for my run, and picked up my dry cleaning, and done all of those things that I insisted on doing alone, I got the call.

Boz Burnham was dead.

And as I stood there thinking back to what had happened ten years before when I'd investigated Burnham's wife's murder, my day suddenly got a little worse.

I glanced at him upon his approach and waited for him to finish his introduction.

"Kevin Mulrooney," he announced as though we should be impressed.

I silently asked what I had done to deserve this kind of karma. Bobby and I hadn't gotten around to talking about our personal pasts yet, and now I had to have mine brought to the forefront?

"Alexandra?" Mulrooney asked when he finally looked at me. I wanted to look anywhere except at him.

"So you're back in the DA's office?" I asked, keeping my gaze on the body. It was sad that the dead body was preferable to Mulrooney, but it was the truth.

I didn't remember him being so arrogant ten years ago. And maybe he had been, I don't know, but he certainly was now.

I wasn't even sure why he'd felt the need to come to the scene, but here he was.

And then he had to go stand next to Bobby. As if I needed that visual reminder of what an idiot I'd been before, because seeing the two of them side by side was almost enough to make me laugh.

The man I was sleeping with and the man I almost slept with. Well, I had to give myself credit for having vastly improved on my own standards.

Mulrooney made a not-so-veiled jab at my inability to have provided the evidence needed to convict Burnham ten years ago and so I lashed out.

"I'd say this has the look of something very personal," I tossed at him after I'd whipped back the body bag to show the mutilation that had been done to the victim.

It was unprofessional of me to be so openly hostile, but he'd hit me where it hurt.

It had been my fault that our original case had gone to hell, and now he was going to bring that up in front of Bobby?

Hell, the whole thing was going to be blown wide open.

Like I said, I should've stayed in bed.

I was well aware of the quizzical looks that Bobby gave to both Mulrooney and me.

He wanted to ask questions.

The fact that he didn't immediately hit me up in the car was a testament to his willpower.

He knew that I was angry, and he gave me the courtesy of allowing me a cool-off period as we drove to the victim's home.

Because despite the fact that it felt as though we'd known each other forever, this was all new to us. This new privilege we had of seeing into each other's personal lives.

We had no trouble finding common ground in the bedroom. In fact, the sex was so much better than I'd expected…and trust me, my expectations were fairly high.

But emotionally, it was all new territory.

Now a question only needed to be asked and the other would provide the answer. That's what couples did.

I no longer had to guess what it was about a suspect that set him off, and he no longer had to wonder why I sometimes had to break away from the intensity of his gaze.

But we did. We _did_ still guess and wonder because even though we were allowed the benefit of inquisition, neither of us had taken advantage of that opportunity yet.

We were both so used to keeping our feelings locked away, that we hadn't jumped straight into the Q and A period.

Because asking and answering was hard, too. And it was very hard for two people who were quite adept at only showing glimpses.

So he didn't ask me about Mulrooney as we drove to Burnham's house. In fact, he didn't say anything at all.

But he did break one of my rules. And I let him.

In a gesture of silent support, he put his hand over mine where it rested against my leg as I drove the SUV across town.

We interviewed the widow and Boz's old friends Max and Craig. The information we learned from them led us to the murder site.

The entire morning, with the exception of that first car ride, we remained professional.

In fact, it was almost as though I'd dreamed the past two weeks of nights spent in Bobby's bed.

He was just being my partner, Bobby, with no hint that there was anything more to us.

No indication that I'd gotten out of his bed this morning at six o'clock after an hour-long session of early morning love-making that almost convinced me to forego my run.

Hell, after the workout we'd done, I didn't really think I needed any more cardio activity.

But I'd insisted. Because I wanted to keep things separate.

It never occurred to me until this very moment that I'd never asked him what he wanted.

I was the one laying down the rules. I was the one enforcing the distance.

Maybe it had been too long since I'd had a relationship. I'd forgotten that one of the most important parts was that it was supposed to be give and take.

What did he want from this thing we'd entered into?

Was it just about the sex?

I found that hard to believe, and yet at the same time, it was almost the impression that I was giving to him, wasn't it? I pretended all day long that I had no interest in him whatsoever and then I drove him home and pounced on him before he could barely close his front door.

Why?

Because I'd been fantasizing about him all day. But he wouldn't know that.

Because I never told him.

And now this case…this case was not what we needed right now. We weren't on solid footing, and this had the potential to completely pull the rug from underneath us.

I almost wished he would just ask.

_Eames, what was between you and Mulrooney? Why couldn't you look him in the eye? _

And those were just the personal questions.

The professional side was just as bad because I didn't want Bobby to think less of me. But I was afraid that he might.

_Mulrooney blames you for the lack of conviction. Did you screw up this case ten years ago? _

But he didn't ask me anything at all.

We got back from Atlantic Beach and reported in to Captain Ross.

We were flawless in our presentation of the evidence.

"Would you mind giving us a minute?" Ross asked Bobby when we'd finished our update.

And then he said he wanted to pull me off the case.

_Another shot to my already weakened sense of self today…_

As much as I didn't want to work this case, I also didn't want to be taken off of it, so I stood my ground and won my argument.

But it occurred to me that Ross had jumped the gun with suggesting I hand this one off.

"This is coming from the DA's office," I stated, already knowing the answer.

"I'll tell them you're the best I've got," he replied.

It would've meant a lot more if he'd just said that to begin with rather than making me fight for it, but I would take what I could get.

I gathered Bobby from the squad room and together we went to the morgue. I felt the distance yawning between us like some gaping chasm. I didn't know how to bridge the span.

_Talk, Alex,_ I yelled at myself.

But what if I said something, and it was the wrong thing?

_This is Bobby_, I reminded myself.

Exactly. It was Bobby.

And even though I hadn't said it out loud to him yet, I loved him.

I couldn't risk losing his respect at the thought of me botching the case, or losing his adoration at the idea of me having a thing with Mulrooney.

So I still said nothing.

We talked to Rodgers about what she'd learned from the body. I avoided looking at Bobby because I felt like I was bordering on losing it and I couldn't let that happen.

But as we tossed about ideas, I started to feel like we were catching our rhythm. He was making an effort, I could tell. The poor man had probably nearly cut out his tongue to keep from asking questions.

I needed to get over myself and get focused on the case. I'd been thinking too much about the Boz Burnham from ten years ago.

"We know a lot about his past," I said, stepping up beside Bobby. "Maybe we should take a look at his present."

"Are you okay?" Bobby asked me quietly as we left the morgue.

"I'm fine," I answered quickly. Then I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

_One sure way to kill a relationship was to keep everything locked inside…_

"I'm just a little off my game today," I admitted. "Old memories aren't always good ones, you know?"

He hummed his agreement, but didn't comment.

"Is it okay if I come over tonight?" I asked him. I tried to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. I usually let him take the lead on making plans, but I really needed some time alone with him. Not working a case, I mean.

"I think you just broke a rule."

"What?"

"No making personal plans while we're on the clock," he said, and I chanced a look at him and saw that he had a small smile on his face. My relief was instantaneous and nearly overwhelming.

"Well, you broke one earlier," I replied.

"I did? Which one was that?"

"You held my hand," I told him, even though I knew that he knew exactly what I was talking about. He was being playful, and I loved it.

"Are you sure that was me?" he asked. And then he turned in his seat and put his hand over mine again. "Because that doesn't sound like something that I would do."

This time he didn't just cover my hand with his. This time he entwined his fingers through mine and then brought our hands to his lips.

I no longer had butterflies in my stomach, but it was fluttering all the same.

"We're done for the day, right?" he asked and his tone caused my skin to flush.

How on earth had I worked with him for so long and yet abstained from jumping him? It was a mystery.

"I think so," I said after flicking my eyes briefly to the clock on the dashboard.

"I'll let Ross know," he said. He shifted again so that he could use his phone without letting go of my hand. He quickly made the call while I drove to his apartment.

I parked the car in a garage across the street from his place. I got out and locked the doors, and then walked around the front of the vehicle. Bobby came to the front to meet me.

"I'm sorry this was a tough day for you," he said softly.

He put his hands on my waist and then immediately brought his lips down to mine.

The urgency in his kiss made me feel as though all day he'd thought of nothing else. I wondered what he _had_ been thinking about. I'd been thinking about how badly I was messing up this relationship, but clearly he felt differently.

I cleared my mind of the myriad of nagging thoughts and instead focused only on how he was making me feel. Incredible. Exquisite. Beautiful. Sexy. And impatient.

"Let's go upstairs," I urged him when he pulled back momentarily. "I need you."

It was as close as I'd come to saying _I love you_.

Of course, he hadn't said the words to me either, but that was okay. It was too soon.

We'd get there. Hopefully.

Unless I screwed it up.

"Bobby, please," I insisted, not wanting to let my mind wander down the path it was headed. I didn't want to think about anything. I just wanted to feel.

And Bobby had a way of making me forget about everything else.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: The timeline runs concurrent with Lady's Man. Some text is pulled directly from the show - no copyright infringement intended.**

**The entire story is Alex POV**

* * *

In the morning, I got up and went home. He asked me to stay, but I didn't.

I should have.

He was being so sweet about everything. He'd wanted to talk about things last night, but when I asked for some time, he'd backed off. He wasn't going to push me, he said.

So I went for a run and went home. As I got myself ready for work, I noticed my wedding picture still sitting out on the dresser.

How long was I going to leave that out?

I rarely even looked at it anymore. It was just part of the décor. And it wasn't like I ever brought men home, so it wasn't putting a damper on my sex life.

Although now I had Bobby.

So far, he hadn't slept over at my place. But what if he did? Would I really want him to come in here and see a picture of me and Joe?

It would give him the wrong idea. It would make him think I wasn't over Joe yet.

That was another reason why I didn't want to talk about Mulrooney. He represented a time in my life that I'd just as soon forget. I'd been young and needy and had recklessly felt like life would never be good again.

The period of time directly following Joe's death was like an afternoon thunderstorm on an otherwise sunny day. The event itself was distressing, but in the grand scheme of things, it was just part of the day. It wasn't indicative of anything other than twenty minutes of rain.

I crossed the room and grabbed the frame from the dresser. I took a last look at it, and then I went to the closet and put the picture on the shelf.

It was something I should've done a long time ago.

I picked up Bobby and we went to the television station.

"Thanks for last night," I told him as I parked the car.

"You're going to thank me for…"

"Not pushing the conversation. I'll tell you everything you want to know, I promise. I'm just not…there yet."

"We're not on anybody's time-table," he assured me as we walked into the building.

And just like that, another wave of love hit me. I was amazed by the depth of my feelings for him. He was so much more understanding and easy-going than I thought he'd be.

Of course, maybe he'd only been tense before because he'd been sexually frustrated.

I bit back a chuckle at my own thought and led the way into Faith Yancy's studio. We tag-teamed her into admitting that she had slept with Boz, which went a long way towards explaining how he'd gotten the job.

Afterwards, we went back to 1PP. I felt like we were back in the swing of things.

And then I saw Mulrooney.

"Okay, so I'm not opposed to spending some time with you," he admitted when I called him out on his lame excuse for showing up.

Great. He was going to make a play for me? Really?

I looked anxiously around the room, but I still didn't see Bobby. And it wasn't that I wanted to hide the fact that Mulrooney had come to see me, but I did want to set Kevin straight.

There was nothing between us and there never would be.

I walked Mulrooney into a conference room and closed the door.

"You were a friend when I needed a friend, and I appreciate that."

"Appreciate. You make it sound like I let you in front of me in line at Starbucks."

_Was he really going to push this? Couldn't he take a hint_?

"Things changed with us," I began, deciding to take a more direct approach.

And then suddenly, there was Bobby in the doorway.

"Should I come back?" Bobby asked.

"No, no…it's uh…it's fine. What have you got?" I asked quickly. The last thing in the world that I needed was for Bobby to think I wanted time alone with Mulrooney.

Why didn't I just tell Bobby the truth last night? He was being so understanding about everything, and yet I kept making bad decisions.

How long before he just quit on me?

One look at his face told me that it wouldn't be much longer.

And then it got worse. The river current charts indicated that the body was dumped from City Island.

"Oh," Kevin spoke up. "Vacation capital of the world."

I glared at him, and he finally took the hint.

"Keep me up to date," he said, as though we answered to him.

I threw daggers at him with my eyes as he walked out of the room, and then shook my head at Bobby.

I didn't know what to say to him and he was clearly frustrated with me.

"Is there a problem?" he asked. And he was having trouble looking at me.

I stumbled through my explanation of the significance of City Island. I knew the mention of Joe wouldn't sit well with Bobby, either. It was never good to mention a former husband to a current boyfriend, even if said former husband was dead.

"And how would Mulrooney know that?" he questioned, and I was beginning to crumble under his scrutiny.

"Boz Burnham was the first case I worked after Joe's death," I said, willing myself to look at him. "It's a time in a person's life when they need to talk about things…"

"You slept with him?"

And when he asked that, he didn't look angry any more. He looked hurt. That was harder to bear than anger, and yet I still couldn't answer.

What happened to not being on anyone's time-table?

This was why I should've told him last night, so that we weren't having this conversation in a conference room at 1PP.

I opened my mouth, even though I wasn't sure what was going to come out. A simple yes or no wouldn't be enough for a question like that.

I owed Ross tremendously for his sense of timing.

The personal thoughts were swept aside as we headed towards the interrogation room to talk to Craig O'Keefe.

"I'm sorry," Bobby said quietly before we entered the room. I raised my eyebrow at him, and he added, "For pushing."

And then I felt bad for making _him_ feel bad. Damn, this was so screwed up.

As my partner, he had the right to ask me anything related to the old case. As my lover, he could ask me about Mulrooney. So why was it that I didn't want to talk about either?

I plowed through the questions with O'Keefe, barely registering his answers.

Until the end.

"Look, we can keep this quiet. Right?" he asked.

I looked at him with disbelief, and then I caught Bobby's eye over top of O'Keefe's head. Once Craig was facing me again, Bobby smiled, and that simple action had my heart doing flip-flops again.

I was a mess.

The information obtained in the interview had us heading for the Clinton Motel.

"About earlier," I began, even though I wasn't sure how I was going to finish that statement.

I just hated feeling off with Bobby.

I wished that we could just take two or three weeks off and go somewhere alone where we could talk through everything. No interruptions, no outside influences, just me and Bobby.

And maybe at some point during all of that alone time, I could work up the nerve to tell him how I felt about him. Right now, those feelings were just giving me an ulcer.

"Eames, you don't have to say anything. I'm sorry I asked."

"I don't want you to be sorry for asking."

"But you don't want to answer me either," he stated knowingly.

"It's just…it's complicated."

"Because you slept with him?"

"Bobby…"

And then my phone rang. It was Ross again.

We'd left without telling him where we were going. Never have I been so grateful to be on the receiving end of an ass-chewing because by the time he finished, we were at the motel.

"We'll come back to this," I told Bobby as I got out of the truck. I think if I'd stayed in the vehicle, he would have too. I think he wanted to talk now.

But I still couldn't. What if he didn't understand?

Besides, we were in the middle of a case. How could I prove to myself that we could have a personal relationship in addition to our partnership if only two weeks into it we were already spending work time hashing out private issues?

He watched me through the windshield as I walked around the truck and then he slowly got out.

"Okay. Tonight," he said finally.

We entered the motel room and I found myself talking just to fill the silence. We were still out of sync. I jumped at the first opportunity to get on the same page.

"Craig's redhead?" I asked him after he brought up the fact that a woman had called Max about his son.

I watched him expectantly, but he just held out his hands in uncertainty. It was a stretch. We had no way of knowing whether the woman who'd called Max was a redhead.

Bobby crossed the room, angling down to look under the bed. He pulled out a blouse, a red silk blouse similar to mine which had gone missing from the dry cleaners.

"Would a redhead wear a red blouse?"

I continued to stare at the fabric, and he added, "That's a rhetorical question."

"No, I'm sorry. It's just that I had…_have_…the same shirt," I told him. I kept looking at the shirt while he walked away to continue searching the room.

"You mean one like it," he clarified.

"Same size. Same label…" I murmured. What the hell was going on here? My shirt goes missing one day, and the next day its twin turns up in a motel room?

"Swizzle stick," Bobby called out from the bathroom. "Lions Rock, Second Avenue…"

"Yeah, I know that place," I admitted in confusion.

This was getting bad in a hurry.

We left the motel and drove in silence to the Lions Rock. I could feel him vibrating in an effort to keep his mouth closed.

But I had more worries now than just the personal. Something or someone was making an effort to tie me into this case, to take me down memory lane.

It seemed that some of the secrets of my life were getting ready to be put on display, and all I wanted to do was start battening down the hatches.

As I pulled up in front of the bar, I turned off the engine.

"Mulrooney and I used to come here," I admitted. He was going to find out shortly anyway, so it may as well come from me.

"Like, on dates?"

"We would come to talk," I corrected.

"Okay."

"And I don't know how it's fitting into this case, so I thought you should know," I said defensively.

"Eames, it's okay," he said. "So you had a life ten years ago."

"So did you," I reminded him. "How come none of your secrets are being thrown out there for the world to see?"

I got out of the car and walked ahead of him into the bar.

I knew I was being bitchy, and I knew he didn't deserve it, but I just couldn't get a handle on myself.

Mulrooney had seen me at my worst.

What if he told Bobby about that? Or anyone?

I'd made a name for myself in Major Case, and my reputation was all about me being tough and professional, not some weepy, inconsolable female.

Not to mention the fact that Bobby counted on my dependability. He relied on my strength of character and my steadfastness.

What would he think of me if he knew how easily I had fallen apart back then?

As I approached the bartender, I could barely keep from rolling my eyes. Of course it had to be someone who would remember me from ten years ago.

I let Bobby start the questions, and then I mercifully got a phone call.

"Eames," I answered, walking away to leave Bobby alone with the bartender.

And I didn't doubt for one second that he would take advantage of the situation. He'd heard the man mention remembering me. Bobby would pump him for information since I seemed unable to share anything with him.

Could I blame him for being curious? Wouldn't I want to know, if the situation were reversed?

Of course I would. But would he tell me?

I had no idea.

Before two weeks ago, I would've said no.

But he seemed so much more comfortable with our relationship than I was, which surprised even me. Maybe it was because I'd been hurt so badly before.

I finished my call and went to gather Bobby.

I filled him in on the information I'd learned about the renter of the ATV, but the whole time I was talking to him, my mind was wondering what he'd found out about me.

When I finished, he didn't even respond to the lead. Instead he asked if I was okay.

"I'm fine," I insisted. "Did you find out everything you wanted to know? About me?"

"Everything," he replied with a nod and a small smile. He opened the door for me and I walked through ahead of him. "Bourbon, huh?" he added.

I turned back to smile at him, and then he dropped his head and whispered it in a low tone, "Bourbon."

His delight at learning this tidbit about me went a long way towards improving my mood.

And did it hurt me to open up to him a little? I mean, I trusted him with my life every day at work. I trusted him with my heart and my body in the bedroom. And yet I couldn't trust him with the trivial details of my past?

"I don't remember ever seeing you drink bourbon," he said thoughtfully as we climbed into the truck.

"I don't…anymore," I admitted. "It's just that…well, I guess it reminds me of a time that I'd rather forget."

He nodded thoughtfully at me, but he didn't respond. Instead he gave me an encouraging smile, and then turned to buckle his seat belt.

The ride back to 1PP was silent again, but this time it was comfortable. We had learned early on in our partnership that the time in the car was often good for thinking.

And he held my hand again which was something I unexpectedly enjoyed. I probably needed to rewrite our relationship rules.

I tossed off my personal thoughts once we arrived back in the squad room, but my work mode was short lived. When I found the information on the woman we were tracking, her listed address was mine.

We finished out our day in awkward spurts of discord and harmony. I knew I was driving Bobby crazy. Hell, I was driving myself crazy. It wasn't like me to be so out of sorts.

"Tonight?" he asked me simply as I gathered my things from my desk. A shot of inexplicable fear rolled through me.

If I went to his place tonight, I was going to have to lay it all out there. I couldn't put it off any longer.

And then he would know.

He would know about how it was my testimony that made a mess of the original case. About how I'd latched on to the first man who would listen. About how I'd practically thrown myself at him in an effort to escape the memory of Joe.

"I think maybe I'd better not," I replied. But I couldn't look at him. I knew I was hurting him, and I knew I was ruining our chances of having a successful relationship, and yet I was too scared to do anything else.

So I spent the night at home alone.

I never realized how much I would miss Bobby.

We'd only been together for two weeks, but once we'd started sleeping together, that was it. We slept together every night. As busy as we were, that was about the only free time we had, so we took advantage.

But this time, I crawled into the bed alone and held onto my pillow and cried.

I couldn't remember a time when I felt so unsteady.

Or maybe I could.

It was ten years ago.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: The timeline runs concurrent with Lady's Man. Some text is pulled directly from the show - no copyright infringement intended.**

**The entire story is Alex POV**

* * *

The next morning, I arrived at work in a surly mood. I hadn't slept a wink.

I could see Bobby in the conference room, so I made a beeline across the squad room.

The closer I got, I began to get an idea of what he was looking at, and my mood went from bad to worse.

"What is this?" I asked, even though I knew damn well what it was.

And I could also tell that his mood was just as bad as mine. Was it because he'd not slept well without me, or was it because he'd lost his patience with me?

"Well, there's things, current things, that still connect to the Burnham case."

"You think there are answers in ten year old depositions?"

"Paula mentions this letter…you never told me about it."

"You know, maybe Ross should reassign this."

"I'm asking questions," he retorted. "You know, that's what we do. We ask questions."

So there was my answer. I had officially blown my chance at a relationship with him after only two weeks.

Because of fucking Boz Burnham. The man was a prick for ten years, and yet he has to wait and get killed when we were still in the infant stages of trying to make a relationship work.

_And I'd taken the coward's way out_, I reminded myself. If I was going to throw blame around, I had to make sure to put it where it belonged.

So I took a deep breath and explained about the letter. This was part of what I hadn't wanted him to find out. It didn't put me in a very flattering light, and even though I knew I hadn't done anything wrong, I still felt responsible.

"His lawyers suggested to the jury that you planted it," he concluded. My heart broke a little at the possibility that he might believe it.

_You know me, Bobby_, I shouted on the inside. _You know I would never do that_!

"Yes," I admitted. I was proud of myself for being able to keep my voice from cracking. "It was…very effective."

"And you still feel...guilty?"

"You know, why are you taking this tone with me? You don't know what I feel. I did not plant that letter."

And as furious as I was, I also realized something else. He _didn't_ know how I felt. And why not? Because I hadn't shared one damn thing with him.

"When Mulrooney left the DA's office…when he lost the case. He was fired?"

I looked at Bobby now. I was mad, but I also thought that maybe there was a point to this exercise.

"No, not exactly. But his career as a prosecutor was over."

"So…he had a reason to obsess?"

"Well, that's crazy."

But was it? Was this where Bobby was taking me all along?

"Mulrooney might be irritating," I added. "But a killer?"

"We should at least find out if he likes redheads."

Bobby left me alone to ponder this latest development.

And if I thought my head had been a mess when I started this day…

I finally left the conference room and found Bobby waiting for me by the elevator. We were alone in the car as it went down to the parking garage.

"I'm sorry about that," he said quietly.

"Which part?"

"I should've told you what I was thinking."

"Yes, you should have."

"And I _would _have," he continued. "If you were talking to me. I wanted to tell you what was on my mind last night."

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall. When he spoke again, he was surprisingly close. I opened my eyes and found him leaning down so that we were eye to eye.

"I know you wouldn't plant evidence. But I needed to walk you through those steps. Otherwise you wouldn't have believed the possibility that your old…friend was behind this."

I nodded slowly.

"And no more nights apart," he added as he stood up straight and took a step back from me. He was just in time, too, because the elevator opened on the third floor and two officers got on.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye, secretly thrilled about his last comment.

Maybe we _would_ get through this. He seemed to still want to be with me. Maybe I hadn't completely screwed things up yet.

Now we just needed to solve this case and see if I could come out on the other side with my dignity intact.

Our next stop was Mulrooney's office. We played him perfectly and it felt like old times.

I was sweet and unsuspecting while Bobby was irritating and nosy. By the time we finished up with him, I was on board with Bobby's theory.

"We need to look more into him," he told me excitedly as we went back to 1PP. He was onto a scent. There was no stopping him now.

I nodded in agreement and then startled when he put his hand over mine again.

"We're okay?" he asked with such innocence and hopefulness that I had to smile at him.

"I should be the one asking you that," I replied, turning my hand over so that our palms met.

"I should've told you," he said, echoing his statement from the elevator. "I just didn't know where your head was, and I wasn't sure if you would hear me. I knew if I laid out the evidence for you…"

"I would follow it, just like you did," I finished.

"I know it's tough when a case involves someone you know. It's hard to see things objectively."

"Bobby, it wasn't like that with Kevin," I told him. I cringed internally at my use of Mulrooney's first name rather than his last.

"I'm not saying there was something between you," he corrected. "I'm just saying someone you know. Because I have no idea what was between you."

I sighed heavily and pulled into the parking garage.

"Tonight, okay? We'll talk about everything tonight."

"You're coming to my place?"

"You said no more nights alone, right?"

"Yeah, but you don't usually listen to me," he replied with a smile.

We got out of the car and went upstairs. After a little bit of figurative legwork, we were back in the car headed for Staten Island.

I wasn't crazy about going to talk to Kevin's dad. I mean, who knew what Kevin had said about me? He could've made up anything. Or he could've said the truth. Either way, I was a little nervous.

"Alexandra Eames," he said, pointing his finger at me.

"That's right," I replied.

"Yeah, I remember him talking about you. Honestly, I thought he'd made you up."

"That bad?" I asked anxiously as I cast a glance at Bobby. But he looked amused. He was probably reading every tell this old man had.

"No, no. But, a woman cop…I hoped he was up to the challenge."

Nice. That was what I needed when I was feeling insecure in my relationship. A shot at my femininity.

We finished out our chat with Kevin's dad and then we made our way back to Manhattan.

"I like women cops," Bobby said a few minutes into the drive. I rolled my eyes and looked at him for a second before returning my attention to the road. Why did it surprise me that he'd picked up on the fact that I was uncomfortable with the old man's remark?

"Well, not _all_ women cops," he elaborated. "Just one."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, unable to keep from smiling.

"Yeah," he replied. And then he leaned across the seat and whispered into my ear, "I'm up to the challenge."

His breath across my ear sent shivers down to my toes. I just wanted to drive straight to his apartment and rip every stitch of clothing off of him.

But we still had work to do. He wanted to check out the bar to see if Kevin showed up. He was going to go in alone.

"He's in there," he told me as we watched through the window from across the street.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I want him to drop his guard with me. If he thinks that I blame you, too, maybe he'll open up."

"I just…I…"

"I don't blame you," he said sincerely. "In fact, I know that you did everything you could. This is on him, not you."

"Okay," I agreed, but I wasn't entirely sure.

Against my better judgment, I left him at the bar and went back to 1PP. I didn't really want to do that, but he'd said he wasn't sure how long it would take. I think that maybe he just didn't want me watching him through the window.

Two hours later, he walked into the squad room. I'd spent the entire time reliving a four-week span ten years ago, and it hadn't done much for my mood.

"You know, Mulrooney doesn't simply blame Boz for his life's failures. He blames you for losing the trial."

"Uh, you're a hell of a detective," I shot back. This was what he'd spent the past two hours digging up?

"Well, that's only part of it. I mean, there's everything that you haven't told me."

"What haven't I told you?" I asked, and even I could hear the absurdity of my own question.

I'd barely told him anything.

I'd been stalling and deflecting for two days because I didn't want to get into it.

But I guess there was no way around it. It was a fact from my past and it wasn't going to go away just because I wanted it to.

"I asked if you slept with him and you didn't answer me."

I closed my eyes and looked away in an effort to gather strength.

It was telling that that was his first question.

He wanted to solve the case, sure. But whether or not I'd slept with the man ten years ago was irrelevant. Case-wise.

It was perfectly relevant relationship-wise.

So I was encouraged by the fact that he was putting the personal over the professional.

I meant something to him, something more than just his partner.

"I…didn't…um," I said at last. I was grateful that the room was nearly empty, because I wanted to be complete in my explanation. I didn't want to mislead him. "But I would have," I added.

I looked down at my desk and then I forced myself to meet his eyes.

"But before anything could happen, we were hit with a bunch of motions, the trial started, and whatever we…felt for each other…soured."

I finished my declaration and I looked at him again. I was waiting for his response, and expecting…disapproval or disappointment or basically any kind of indication he was now going to look at me differently.

"Well, I'm concerned," he said.

_What?_

I let the words roll around in my head for a minute as I tried to decipher their meaning, since I had been anticipating something else.

He was concerned?

"For me?" I asked aloud. He nodded at me, never breaking eye contact.

"I…think he's unstable."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that, but I had to trust Bobby's instincts, because right now mine were on the fritz.

"What do we do next?" I asked him.

"We go home," he said quietly.

So we did. We went to Bobby's place.

I was a bundle of nerves.

He still hadn't said much about what I'd told him in the squad room.

Why had I felt the need to elaborate? Wasn't the important thing that I hadn't slept with Mulrooney?

No. The important thing was full disclosure.

So we sat on his couch and talked.

I told him everything, from how I'd felt when I first lost Joe to how I became friends with Mulrooney. I talked about my loneliness and insecurities, my anger at losing Joe…just everything.

I wanted him to know all the thoughts and emotions that I'd shared with Kevin. I wanted Bobby to understand that my feelings for Kevin were based on convenient timing, and nothing else.

If I had slept with him, it would've been out of gratitude and a need to be with someone other than Joe more so than any hint of passion or interest.

It was an emotionally draining night.

I couldn't help the tears that came as I relived the experience. I was horrified by their presence but Bobby didn't seem to mind them at all. He held me close and listened intently as though he were cataloging my every word.

Around midnight, we moved into the bedroom.

The room was dimly lit, with only a few slivers of light from nearby neon signs filtering through the blinds.

I was trembling and I couldn't even begin to pinpoint the cause. Nerves, fear, anticipation…those thoughts barely touched on the edge of what I was feeling.

Bobby began to gently undress me, and for some reason, the action was more intimate than anything we'd shared to date. It was about familiarity and caring rather than lust. It was a statement about our bond as a couple.

I stood still as he carefully removed every stitch until I was completely bare in front of him.

And now I truly was, in every sense of the word. Now he'd seen me not only without my clothes, but also without my armor.

Odd how it had been so much easier to lose the former rather than the latter.

So far, Bobby had yet to utter a word since we entered the bedroom. He was standing in front of me, his eyes deliberately making their way over my body as I dropped my eyes and held my breath, waiting for him to speak.

When after a minute he still didn't, I raised my eyes from their focal point on the rug and met his gaze. He slowly brought his hand up to rest against my cheek.

"I love you," he said quietly. The sincerity in his voice brought me to tears again. I was on an emotional roller coaster and it was so unusual for me to be this unstable that I didn't know what to do with myself. I was embarrassed by the fresh set of tears, but he put his other hand up to my cheek as well and used his thumbs to wipe away the moisture.

"Bobby, I…"

"Don't say anything right now," he said. "You've been through a lot these last few days. I don't want you to feel any kind of pressure to respond. I just wanted you to know where I stand."

"Don't think," he instructed in a hushed voice. "Just let me show you how much I love you."

And then he kissed me so sweetly, so tenderly that I just let myself go.

I put myself completely into his capable hands and surrendered to the moment.

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: The timeline runs concurrent with Lady's Man. Some text is pulled directly from the show - no copyright infringement intended.**

**The entire story is Alex POV**

* * *

In the morning, I felt better. Exhausted, but better.

And after my eyes had been open for only a few seconds, I remembered Bobby telling me that he loved me.

Showing me that he loved me.

I couldn't stop the smile.

And then, of course, I had to think about Mulrooney. We still had to finish up this case. Although, Bobby was going to have to work without me for awhile, because I had been called to testify in a case that I'd worked on while he was on suspension so I was going to be in court all morning.

Leaving him alone to pursue our leads had me a little nervous. I mean, I felt on firmer ground as far as our personal relationship went, but how was he going to look at me at work? He'd seen me weak and vulnerable, and yet he was supposed to then trust me to watch his back? To see me as an equal partner?

My stomach began to churn again at all of my unanswered questions.

"You're awake," Bobby said as he came into the room. He was already dressed. "I was just getting ready to wake you up. I think you would've liked how I was going to do it," he teased.

I knew he was feeling me out, trying to see which side of sanity I was on today.

"Maybe I should go back to sleep then," I replied with a smile, but I sat up as I said the words and accepted the cup of coffee that he offered me.

He sat down beside me on the bed.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm getting there. Thank you…for…last night. I know I haven't been easy lately," I admitted.

"Well, it is your turn," he said casually.

"My turn?"

"To be difficult. I had the past nine years. You can have the next nine," he told me, gently nudging my shoulder with his own.

"You weren't that bad," I replied.

"You weren't either," he insisted. "So, you've got court this morning?"

"Yeah. I don't know how long it'll take me."

"I've got a few ideas I'm going to chase down. We'll catch up when you're done, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed, although again I was fraught with nerves.

"Relax," he told me, instantly reading my unease. "We'll finish this thing up today. Then maybe we can get a couple of days off. What do you think?"

He seemed a little unsure of himself, and I realized how tremendous of a step it had been for him to put himself on the line for me. He'd shown me his heart without any expectations.

"Bobby," I began, with every intention of telling him how I felt.

"Tonight," he interrupted.

"What's tonight?"

"Tonight we'll go out. We'll celebrate closing this case," he said confidently. "And then you can tell me whatever is on your mind."

That last part was said hesitantly, as though maybe he was afraid for me to speak my mind.

Did he honestly think I didn't love him in return? Or did he think I just wasn't sure yet?

I wasn't sure, but I did know that he wanted me to wait until I was myself again, and for that I loved him even more.

Bobby waited patiently while I got myself ready for work and then I dropped him off at 1PP before heading over to the courthouse.

I could tell on the drive over that his mind was already on the case, but that didn't keep him from holding my hand.

I hadn't even had to tell him how much I liked it. Or maybe he did it because _he_ liked it.

Whichever the case, it worked out fine. It was a connection we could make without feeling like we were really breaking any rules.

And okay, so we were breaking departmental rules by mere virtue of being together, but we were mostly keeping it out of work.

That was what was important.

It wasn't the NYPD's business what I did on my own time as long as it didn't interfere with my ability to do my job.

Although, is that what it had done this time?

Would I have been as shaken, as ineffective on this case if I weren't in a relationship with my partner?

Probably.

Even if we hadn't crossed the line, I still would've wanted to. We still would've had feelings that ran deeper than just partners even if we hadn't acted on them.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked me for the tenth time as he got out of the truck.

"I'm fine," I insisted. "I'll catch up with you as soon as I'm done."

He looked at me for another moment, and then gave me a wink and closed the door. I watched him go into the building and then I headed for the courthouse.

Six hours later, I finally finished.

Six long, miserable hours of sitting there, waiting to offer my so-called expert testimony.

I was supposed to have been called to the stand around nine. Then ten. Then eleven-thirty. If they had just told me first thing that it would be more like one-thirty, I could've left and come back.

But instead I'd had to wait. And stew about what Bobby was doing.

So as I walked into the squad room at two o'clock in the afternoon, I was nervous.

This was the true test.

How would he see me _at work_ after all we'd gone through last night?

He was sitting at his desk and he looked tired.

_Of course he was_. I'd kept him up most of the night with my whining.

"Mulrooney's meeting me in evidence lock-up in about two hours," he said.

Meeting _me_, he'd said. Not _us_.

"I hope you're not saying I can't go," I replied without thinking.

And then I mentally berated myself.

Since when did I need his permission? We were partners. And here I was acting weak again, at a time when I needed to be strong.

How was he ever going to respect me in the office?

"No," he said, looking away from me.

I really wished that I knew what he was thinking. Had he hoped that I would tear into him for even suggesting that I wasn't invited? Was he trying to bait me into returning to my old self?

But then he turned sympathetic eyes onto me.

"I'm…things are going to be said…things revealed…

"Things that won't be pleasant for me."

"Right."

"But it's about getting him, right?"

He slowly nodded at me.

"So what's the problem?" I asked with fake bravado.

Hell, if I didn't have it for real, then the least I could do was pretend. I'd let Bobby do the lion's share of the work on this case while I'd been ducking and running for cover.

If I wanted him to continue to respect me at work, then I needed to earn it. And the first step was going to be to face this thing head on. It's what I should've done from the beginning.

"How did the court thing go?" he asked me quietly when I went back to my chair.

"It was fine," I replied without looking at him.

"Eames…"

I raised my eyes and met his. He glanced around quickly to make sure that no one was within earshot and then returned his eyes to mine.

"I'm just trying to protect you," he told me.

"I know," I said, because I did know that. But I also couldn't let him. Not like that anyway. "But we're partners. We do this stuff together, even when it's hard."

My phone rang, interrupting whatever his response may have been. It was the ADA.

"I need you to come back, Detective Eames. I have to recall you to the stand."

"Are you kidding me? I just spent the better part of my day over there."

"If you can get here in the next half hour, I'll have you out of here by three."

I agreed, and hung up the phone.

"You've got to go back?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah," I said as I rose from my chair. "He said I'll be done by three. But you know what that means."

He smiled at me carefully as though he was still unsure of my mood.

"That means probably more like four or five," he replied.

"Don't start without me," I told him. And maybe now I was taking it to the other extreme because ordinarily if something like this had happened, we would each trust the other to handle the case.

But I really needed to be there. He hadn't even filled me in on his theory yet.

"I wouldn't dream of it. I'll keep him there all night if I have to."

As it turned out, he didn't have to wait for me at all. I met him in the hall outside of evidence lock-up five minutes ahead of schedule.

"I'm guessing you've got something good," I said when I saw him. I could tell by the way he was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. He was anxious to bring down the hammer.

"I think I can trip him up. But Eames," he said, leaning in close so that no one else could hear. "He's going to pull every punch he can."

"I've faced down tougher men than him," I reminded him.

"Yes you have," he confirmed with a grin. "On a regular basis."

"Then let's do this."

We went into the room together.

I looked at Mulrooney as he sat on the far side of the table and I wondered what I had ever seen in him.

Was it simply need that had drawn me to him? Certainly it wasn't a physical attraction.

He'd listened when I needed to talk. It was nothing more than that.

Bobby got the discussion got underway, but Kevin wasted no time getting his digs in.

"Yeah, well, I don't go to court until things are fully formed. I learned that lesson," he said derisively.

Bobby was quick to call him out on it.

"Well, we clearly don't want a repeat of that. It's too bad that Detective Eames wouldn't fudge her testimony."

"That's not what I'm suggesting."

"Oh, come on," I fired back. "If I hadn't found that letter you'd be on the yellow brick road to Bureau Chief, not taking orders from your former paralegal."

"I'm not really sure you should be here."

"I think she needs to be here," Bobby retorted. "I think she's carried around this guilt of that acquittal for ten years…"

My first reaction to Bobby jumping to my defense was that I needed to fight my own battles. He was taking over for me, covering for me again.

But then I listened to what he was saying, and I realized what my mistake had been all along.

I was so concerned about my personal involvement in this case, and how it would make me look, and how it would make Bobby feel, that I hadn't really looked at the _case_.

I hadn't been analyzing the evidence or considering what was ultimately going on.

But Bobby had. And he was helping me find my way back, too. He turned around and showed me evidence from the original Burnham case, and I quickly forgot about everything else except for his show and tell exhibition.

I sat down next to him as he continued explaining the difference in the papers on which the letters had been written and the specificity of the search warrants.

And then I noticed that Mulrooney was getting fidgety.

I knew that Bobby had suspected that Mulrooney was somehow involved, but I didn't realize that he was actually our killer. I was again ashamed for my lack of vision, my blind spot with this apparent suspect, but I had to move past that.

I listened as Bobby talked about the strength that men receive from women. It was a theory of Jung and I'd heard it before, but hearing him say it now made me think that he was using that analogy just for me.

He got some of his strength from me.

With my confidence building, my mind raced to keep up with where the evidence was pointing, and then suddenly I had it.

I couldn't hardly believe it. But still…I _had_ it.

Mulrooney had set this whole thing up as payback.

"You wanted me to know it was you and think that there wasn't a damn thing that I could do to prove it," I stated.

And I knew that without Bobby, it probably would've worked.

But he pushed and poked and prodded until Kevin broke down and admitted it.

"Alright," he said at last. "Alright. Alright. You'll find things. This bitch can gloat. But I've seen her broken, a crushed flower, sobbing for poor dead Joe. And wanting me…"

I'd known he would say things. I was as prepared as I could be, but it still hurt. It hurt to know that one of the most painful and vulnerable times of my life was being used to mock and humiliate me.

I was glad that I'd talked with Bobby last night so that he knew what to expect, but I was still afraid to look at him. Instead I couldn't take my eyes off of Kevin, wondering how in the world I could've been such a horrible judge of character.

"I'm ready to see a lawyer," Mulrooney said after his taunts. Bobby turned to look at me, but I was rooted to the floor, so he pulled out his cuffs and jerked Kevin away from the wall.

"Hold still, sweetie," Bobby told him mockingly as he pulled Kevin's hands behind his back.

And then he looked at me, not with pity or disgust or shame, but with encouragement. Determination. _Respect_.

The next thing I knew, he walked past Mulrooney, nearly knocking him to the ground with a glancing blow of his shoulder.

Then he held out the cuffs to me.

That was his way of giving me back my power. My sense of self. It was his way of showing me that we were still equal, and nothing that had been said changed the fact that we were partners.

I cuffed Mulrooney and read him his rights before handing him off to an officer waiting in the hall. I watched as the officer led him away.

"You okay?" Bobby asked. He was directly behind me, so close that I could feel his body heat.

"Thank you," I replied without turning around.

"For what?"

"For getting me back on track. I owe you…"

"You don't owe me anything," he insisted. "Partners pick up each other's slack from time to time."

"You did more than that."

"Can we argue about this at home? Or do we need to finish the paperwork first?"

Once again, he was giving me back my control. He was encouraging me to make a work decision. How many of those had I made in the past few days? Not nearly enough.

I'd really let Mulrooney mess with my head.

"The paperwork can wait," I said as I led the way down the hall. We went into the stairwell and climbed up one flight, but I paused before I opened the door that led to the main floor.

I turned around quickly, and caught Bobby by surprise. In fact, I'd caught him looking at my butt.

"I was…um…I'm sorry," he stuttered, color flooding his cheeks.

"It's not like I didn't know you looked," I teased him, letting him off the hook. "Why do you think I always walk in front of you?"

He tilted his head and looked at me quizzically, my suddenly cheerful mood clearly catching him off guard.

"It's such a relief. To be done with this," I clarified. "And to know that it really wasn't my fault."

"You had to know that it wasn't," he said in confusion. "And you had to know that I would never think that you'd done something unethical."

"I wasn't sure," I admitted. "I was afraid of losing your respect. I was afraid of having my life examined and that maybe you might not like what you saw. And then because of all that, I quit doing my job. I'm sure I've been a lot of fun to be around lately."

His eyes softened and he ran his fingertip along my arm up to my shoulder. It was a bold move, considering where we were, but hopefully we would hear footsteps approaching before anyone came within view.

"You earned my respect a long time ago. Nothing is going to change that," he said sincerely. "And as for the personal stuff, we're still learning each other. But trivial details are just that - trivial. Even though I don't know everything, I know enough to know that I love you."

I let myself get lost in his eyes for a moment as the words registered in my head. If only I'd been willing to talk to him sooner, maybe these past few days would've been easier.

But then again, maybe they had to be just as they were for us to move forward.

"So we're okay?" I asked him.

"We are so much more than okay," he assured me.

I turned to push open the door, but then I made a split-second decision and I couldn't wait. I turned back around.

"I love you," I told him. I watched him as a smile spread across his face.

"I should've said it last night," I added. "Or any night in the past two weeks."

And then because I wasn't going to play games with him, I admitted, "Hell, if I'm really going to be honest, I could've said it a whole lot longer ago than that."

"You said it now. That's all that matters."

We went by the squad room before we left 1PP, knowing that Ross expected a full report even though we were going to procrastinate on the official paperwork.

"So it was Mulrooney?" he asked, surprised by the turn of events. Normally I kept him up to speed on things, but I assured him that things had evolved too quickly for our usual briefings.

Then Bobby and I alternated nearly every other sentence, filling the captain in on the investigation and subsequent arrest, and showing a united front to the boss.

"Nice work, Detectives," he told us as his means of dismissal.

"Another case solved by Goren and Eames," I said playfully to Bobby as we left his office.

"Uh uh," he replied. "Eames and Goren."

"Doesn't have the same ring to it," I countered, grabbing my coat from the rack.

"It doesn't need to ring," he said on the way to the elevator. "It just needs to work."

And it did.

We went to the parking garage and got into the SUV, each of us seemingly lost in our own thoughts.

"I used to hate Scotch," Bobby said suddenly as I drove us to his place.

"Really?" I asked in surprise. "When?"

I waited expectantly, thrilled that he was going to offer me an insight.

"When I was a kid."

"Well I should hope so," I laughed. He chuckled with me, and I realized that I felt better than I had in days, since before this damn case.

No, actually I felt better than ever.

"My old man drank it," he elaborated. "He taught me how to fix it for him when I was about six. Glass tumbler, three ice cubes, Scotch filled to an inch below the top."

I glanced at him and saw that he was lost in his memory. But I loved the look on his face. Despite his words to the contrary, it was a pleasant memory for him.

"I did it perfectly every time," he continued. "And he drank quite a bit. It got so that I equated the smell with my dad. By the time I was eleven, I swore that I would never drink anything alcoholic, ever. I blamed everything bad he ever did on that Scotch."

"So what changed your mind?"

"When I was eighteen, he called me up and invited me over to his place. When I got there, he took me into the kitchen and sat me down at the table. He had two glasses of Scotch. He wanted to have a drink with me, since I had become a man."

"That's pretty…symbolic for a man who…"

"Didn't spend much time with me? I know. It went a long way towards bridging the gap. I sat there with him and sipped on the drink. It was the first drink I'd ever had. We talked about what I was going to do, go to college or join the army, and what I wanted out of life."

"He treated you as an equal instead of as a child."

"Right," he agreed. He turned toward me then and settled his hand on my leg. "And suddenly the smell didn't just make me think about being a kid and hearing the arguments or watching him stumble out the door and wonder if he was going to gamble away our rent money. Now it makes me think of possibilities. It always reminds me of where I've been, but at the same time, it makes me think about what's still to come."

I nodded in understanding and we drove the rest of the way in silence. I found a parking spot outside his building, and then we went inside.

On the kitchen table was a bottle of Kentucky bourbon.

"When did you…"

"When you got called back to court," he explained.

He had left work and picked up the bottle and brought it home for me.

His actions told me two things.

One, he'd planned to tell me his Scotch story all along.

Two, he'd had confidence in me to know that I would rise to the occasion today. If he'd thought for a second that I would crumble in front of Mulrooney, he never would've had such a blatant reminder sitting out in plain sight.

"You knew that I'd…" I began as I picked up the bottle and read the label. "You trusted me to hold it together."

"You did more than hold it together," he countered as he came up behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist as I stood staring at the bottle. "You stood tough against someone who played dirty. He violated your confidence and tried to expose your weakness."

"He did a pretty good job," I said quietly.

"He misjudged you though. Because he never really knew you. He only saw a brief glimpse of you at a time when you needed a friend," he said.

I closed my eyes and leaned back against his chest, loving the feel of his strong arms around me.

"I wish I'd known you then," he whispered. "I would've been your friend."

_How much of a difference would that have made_, I wondered. If I'd met Bobby and opened up to him instead of Kevin?

Would we still be here today? Or would that experience have changed our dynamic forever?

"You're my best friend," I told him. "But I'm glad things happened the way that they did. Otherwise we might not be here."

"So you believe in destiny?" he asked and I could hear the tease in his voice.

"I believe," I began as I reached for the bottle. "That we're going to open up this bourbon and put a new spin on things."

He moved from behind me and got two glasses out of the cabinet. He put three cubes in each and then held them out for me to fill them with the amber liquid.

"So what do we drink to?" I asked once we each had our drink.

"We don't have to drink to anything. It's about feeling. Just think about how you feel _right now_," he said softly.

I thought about it.

_How did I feel_?

I was once again confident in my ability to do my job.

And I was secure in my relationship with Bobby.

I actually felt pretty damn good.

**THE END**


End file.
